


Falling for You (in 1982)

by charmedtomeetyou



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-29
Updated: 2015-07-29
Packaged: 2018-04-11 21:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4452854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedtomeetyou/pseuds/charmedtomeetyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Killian and Emma fall through Zelena’s time portal, but it turns out it only allows travel through time, not space - leaving the two of them stranded in the forest that would become Storybrooke, well before Regina’s curse has ever been cast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling for You (in 1982)

“One of these days I’m going to stop chasing this woman,” Hook mutters, sharply releasing his namesake’s hold on the barn floor, giving in to the massive pull and sliding through the portal Emma has fallen into just seconds before. A few bursts of light and color and swirling wind and falling, falling, _falling_ and he lands with a _thunk_ in the middle of the woods.

A soft groan comes from just ahead of him, proof at the very least that he and Emma have taken the same trip – he was careful to think about _her_ the whole journey in case there was a chance their thoughts controlled their destination.

_The bloody ridiculous things we do for love_.

He brushes off his trousers and rearranges his long leather jacket. The satchel he carries (filled with the storybook and a nice flask of rum) has flung open, but the precious cargo remains inside. _They’re probably going to need it_.

“No, no,” Emma breathes, shaking the leaves out of her hair.

“It appears we’re in a forest, though this certainly resembles your world far more than mine, don’t you think?” The land without magic is duller, less overgrown than the Enchanted Forest. Probably something to do with the age of the place, or, more obviously, something to do with the entire lack of _magic_.

“Yeah, I got that. Seems like we’re still in Maine. Guess Zelena didn’t factor in the whole _location_ part of her time travel plan.”

“I suppose not. But _when_ are we, then?”

“I have no idea. I guess since there aren’t any dinosaurs roaming around, we can rule out the Jurassic period.” Emma shakes her head, finally standing up. She walks a few paces in any direction, probably searching for signs of life.

“Dinosaurs?”

“Um, they’re sort of like… dragons. Except they don’t breathe fire.”

She’s rolling her eyes adorably at Hook’s lack of grasp on the basic facts of her world. He’s always thought it was a bit unbalanced, their knowledge of one another’s realms. Sure, she’s shocked when she actually _sees_ the reality of some of the things she’s only _heard_ of (like the dastardly Captain Hook, of course), but at least she _has_ heard of them. Hook knows nothing of her world beyond what Emma’ told him – she’s really the only one other than Henry who seems to care to get him acclimated to this new land. And her frustration at explaining things so basic to her existence that she can’t quite find the words… well, it’s so cute that even if he _did_ have a clue, he’d probably fake not knowing just to watch her squirm.

He’s smirking at her, enjoying the expressions she makes while she’s deep in thought when her features drop and she speaks again.

“Oh, _no_.” She paces quickly back to where he has now risen to his feet. “Portals, they usually take you to where you’re thinking, right?”

“Generally speaking, yes, love. What were you thinking?”

“About Henry and the story we were reading at Granny’s. Oh, god, the book! Do you still have it?”

He slings the bag open and leans toward her. She yanks it out quickly, opening the pages to the beginning of the story of Snow White and her Prince Charming.

“What are you thinking, Swan?” he asks, trying to remain calm and collected for his princess (but truthfully panicking on the inside).

“At this moment in time,” she says, pointing at the picture of Snow attempting to rob Charming’s carriage. “Where were you?”

He thinks back to those days, which simultaneously seem like ages ago _and_ just a couple of years back (which is _nothing_ in the spectrum of a life consisting of three centuries). He’s changed so much. All because of _her_ , of course. And in those days she wasn’t even born yet.

“Well, love, I can’t recall my precise location, though if I were a betting man – and I certainly have been before – I’d put my doubloons on the dreaded pirate captain being three quarters of the way down a bottle of rum in some tavern in the Enchanted Forest. Or passed out on his ship.”

He looks at her with shame, but she’s too focused on her train of thought to be judging him. Besides, it’s not like she isn’t already well aware of who he ~~is~~ was. It’s probably that knowledge that keeps her holding him at arm’s length, what makes his job of melting the ice around her heart all that more difficult. _But he’s still trying_.

“Were you aware enough of what was going on in the Enchanted Forest to know how long it was between when Snow met Charming to when the curse struck?”

“Well, I know that _you_ were a honeymoon baby.” He quirked an eyebrow and Emma blushed.

“Yuck. File that under: things I never need to think about. Ever.”

“You asked. Anyway, I’d put a rough estimate at a year or two before your birth and the curse is when they met.”

“So we’re probably stuck in 1982. _Great_. I should have left Storybrooke the _instant_ we defeated Zelena. This is exactly the kind of thing that does _not_ happen in New York.” Henry had once shown Hook a moving picture called _The Avengers_ that would suggest New York isn’t the safe, peaceful place Emma seems to believe, but he isn’t about to argue that _now_.

“On the bright side, I’m sure real estate is much more reasonable here.”

“ _Don’t_.”

“I understand your frustration, but we’ve been in dire straights before. There’s no reason to be antsy. We have our wits. We just have to focus on being constructive.”

They pause, searching their surroundings again for any clues, any possibilities of how they might return back to their own time.

“So… any ideas how to get back?”

“How would I know how to get back to the future? Who do I look like, Marty McFly?”

“Marty McWho?”

“The kid with the lightning and the DeLorean and oh my _god_ that movie hasn’t even come _out_ in this world yet. And we’ve got nothing here, no magic. Even if my magic _had_ returned when Zelena was defeated, it wouldn’t work here anyway. Oh god, oh god. We’re _stuck_. There’s just no way and I’m never going to see Henry again and…”

Hook takes a few steps toward her, reaching out and placing his hand and hook on her shoulders. He gently rubs up and down, being careful to keep space between their bodies. The _last_ thing he needs is to push her too much and for Emma to run from him now when they’ve literally nothing but one another.

“We will find a way, Swan. We always do.”

Her eyes remain sparkly with unshed tears, her mouth twisted in a pursed frown, but she starts to breathe more normally again.

“OK. Where do we start? Um. So Storybrooke doesn’t exist right now. This is all just… trees. And it will be until the curse, which is still _years_ away. At the very least we’re going to need to survive until then. Do you remember how close the next town over was when we drove here from New York?”

“I found the company _within_ the vessel far too distracting to notice our outside surroundings, love,” Hook says with a wink.

Emma rolls her eyes. “Well, I can steal a car. But we’d have to _find_ one first. So… let’s get walking, I guess.”

The sun had set just before they’d reached the time portal (back in Storybrooke), but it seems more like they’ve landed in the past just around sunrise. They start walking toward the rising sun, a faint rumbling sound coming from that direction signaling a possible highway.

They don’t speak as they walk. Emma seems lost in thought, probably trying to make a plan or just lamenting the loss of her family. Either way, Hook is not going to disturb her. She walks just ahead of him once they hit the highway, the berm not quite wide enough for them to walk side by side (especially not if they are to keep the careful space between them that she seems to require).

It seems obvious to Hook that his feelings for Emma aren’t entirely unreciprocated. She spends more time with him than anyone (outside of her son, of course). She trusts him to care for her son when she’s required elsewhere. She laughs with him, values his opinion, and she _knows_ they’re kindred spirits. Sometimes he feels like he can see her walls coming down – it was torture watching her be casual with him, try to tease him back when his lips were cursed, knowing he couldn’t seize the moment, flirt back, encourage any actual progression. And once the truth had been revealed, her walls quickly snapped back into place.

He is worrying about getting back to their own time, of course. She needs her family, and truthfully he values the friendships he’s started to form in Storybrooke as well. The prince and he… well they’ve forged a kind of bond that is the closest thing to _brotherly_ that he’s experienced in the centuries since the loss of Liam. He and Belle have even started to be friendly. And the lad – Hook certainly loves Emma, but he loves Henry, too. He’s been looking forward to a day that Henry might consider him family. Even if it isn’t because of his relationship with the lad’s mother.

But he is also somewhat relieved to have this time with Emma outside of Storybrooke, outside of the Enchanted Forest. He loves her magic – he loves every part of her, of course – but the entire lack of magical nonsense and distractions gives him time that he might use so that Emma can see him as a _person_. Perhaps she might be able to look past all the extenuating circumstances keeping them apart. Perhaps she’ll see that they are better together than they are on their own.

Or perhaps her current silence is due to her scheming to get away from him. Despite being sucked 30 years in the past, Emma still knows this land much better than him. She can steal a car and simply not allow him inside. Send him off to fend for himself.

 

“At least we’re not at risk of ruining the past, right?” Emma finally speaks, her long blonde hair swishing as she tilts her head in Hook’s direction.

“Meaning what exactly?”

“Zelena’s goal was to change the past. My family’s past. Even if we’d ended up there by _accident_ , imagine what we could have messed up. I’d probably have caused myself to never be born or something ridiculous like that.” She slows down, allowing him to catch up and walk beside her, pushing herself out onto the road while no land vessels are going past.

“You’re right, love. But I suppose we’ll still change something. If we’re to survive we’ll need food and shelter. I doubt we can avoid people entirely. We’ll still need to tread carefully.”

“Yeah, speaking of careful, pirate…” Her face is stern and calculating as her eyes rove up and down his figure.

“See something you like, Swan?”

“I see something that doesn’t blend in with this world, _Killian_.”

His heart jumps at her use of his given name, no matter the sarcasm it’s laced with. While the lad was without his memories she’d taken to using it, and he was always somewhat disappointed when she reverted back to the pirate-out-for-revenge moniker.

“Are you referring to my hook?”

“I’m referring to your everything. You look like a damn pirate!”

“And what do you suggest we do about that?”

“Well you’re going to need to lose the jacket. Seems like summer here, or close to it, which is a bit too early to pretend you’re dressing for Halloween.”

“If you want me to remove my garments, love, there’s no need to stand on ceremony.”

Aye, he still flirts with her. Unashamedly. It seems to calm her most of the time, the predictability and relative safety within his pirate attitude. It’s when he gets serious, tender, _genuine_ that she seems to actually feel like he’s trying something.

And, aye, he just _likes_ it (her).

“Calm down, Casanova. I just think we need to not look too suspicious around people. It’s harder to steal from them when they’re expecting it. It’s something I learned from Neal.” His eyes go wide at her mention of Baelfire.

While Bae made his own choices, Hook still feels responsible for what happened to the boy. And, by extension, what the boy ended up doing to Emma, to Henry. He imagines Emma is about to suggest playing the same cons that she had with Neal, and the thought turns his stomach. Not because he doesn’t like to think of her loving Neal – the thought actually brings him some peace that at one point in her life, at least, she felt loved. But to be a young lass, lost and barely making it, having to resort to thievery… he doesn’t like to imagine her in that state, nor does he wish her to be in it again.

“So we are going to resort to land piracy, then? I found intimidation worked quite well when the men and I took to such a task when the Jolly had been lost.”

“Maybe in _your_ world that would work. But this is mine. And no, I don’t want to start with stealing. I do have some cash in my pocket. But still, it’s something that we might have to resort to. Neal and I never wanted…” Emma drifts off, her jaw dropping.

“Swan?” Hook asks, wrapping his fingers around her elbow. They stop walking and Emma pulls him off the road to sit on a fallen tree.

“Neal. He’s probably here. I mean he’s still a kid. But if my math is right… he’s _somewhere_ in this world.”

“Are you suggesting we find him? I doubt he’ll help _me_ , love. He feels betrayed by me. And he will be quite fresh from the Hell that is Neverland if he’s just gotten to this world again. Additionally, you remember his reaction when he found out who you were even _after_ he loved you. If we so much as mention magic – ”

“He’ll run. I know. But who else could help us?”

“Do you know where he is?” Hook’s arm is still wrapped around Emma’s, his fingers grasping the leather of her jacket.

Her face falls. “No. He never told me about his past, not really. And once I knew who he _really_ was, well, he never clarified.”

Hook stands again, pulling Emma along with him. “Come, Swan. We need to find some food and shelter before nightfall. I’d wager we’ve got many hours of sunshine left, but I’ve no clue how far we are to any civilization. Villages are much farther apart in this realm. We could have walked between _kingdoms_ by now if we were in the Enchanted Forest.”

“Well we’re _not_ ,” she snaps.

He lets go of her arm then and they walk in silence once again. After a half hour or so of no speaking, he asks her more about this world. Nothing personal, of course – just the basics, how things work.

“… so this country didn’t like the whole monarchy thing and there was a big war – you know, with guns and stuff, not magic – and we went off on our own. And so our rulers are all elected. No princesses here.”

“None but you, of course,” Hook remarks.

She tries to explain television and TV shows, what kinds of instruments make music here, how credit cards work. He’s absorbing all the information, trying desperately to make sure he isn’t going to mess something up about their plans or any future _cons_ just because he doesn’t understand this world.

As if reading his thoughts, she leans toward him. “Hey, just follow my lead, OK? We’re going to be _fine_. No one is going to quiz you about how the world works. Just let me answer stuff. It’ll be like I’m just your super overbearing girlfriend.”

Which does sound believable. For the past two years, save the (wasted) time he thought he could forget her, Hook has been doing _nothing_ _but_ following her lead. He’d go to the end of the world for her. Or time.

They talk for hours about this land, about “science” and what passes as “magicians” in this world. She assures him a few times that she felt as lost as him when she was stuck in the Enchanted forest with her mom (and him). He says that he remembers her being _awfully_ confident.

“ _Fake it ‘til you make it_. That’s a thing people say here. I live by it sometimes.”

 

Just before sunset they finally make it to a town, a small one like Storybrooke. There’s a little hamburger shop on Main Street and Emma has been complaining of hunger for hours, so that’s their first stop. Emma insists he get rid of his coat before they sit down to eat, so he hides it in an alley for him to retrieve later.

“I’ve only got $200. On the plus side, stuff is cheaper in this decade than the one we just left. But we still need to be careful. Let’s order small, OK?” Emma says, probably more for her own benefit than his. He’s seen her staring longingly at the _milkshake_ section (he recalls that’s something she and Henry both enjoy), and he’s about to encourage her to just go for it when the waitress arrives.

“Two waters, four cheeseburgers, and one order of fries, please,” she says before the waitress can even introduce herself. His Swan surely gets cranky when she’s without food.

They’re careful to talk only about _normal_ things, like what they think her family might be doing at that moment (leaving out the whole _time travel_ aspect).

“I wonder if they announced my brother’s name yet.” The sadness in Emma’s eyes is almost too much for him. He reaches over to grasp her hand, knowing that if she questions him he’ll say he did it under the pretense that they need to look like a couple. Really he just can’t help by try to comfort her.

“We’ll get back to them. You _Charmings_ always find each other. Always.”

Emma quickly changes the subject to her life with Henry when they lived in New York, babbling on about their happier times. She’s careful to leave out Walsh’s involvement, no doubt an attempt to not sully her good memories, and Hook is entranced, just watching her be happy, watching her forget their current predicament.

She pays the bill and they leave the restaurant, heading back toward the edge of town.

“I saw a barn that looked pretty empty on our way in. Are those sleeping quarters fit for a pirate?” She mocks his accent. It’s terrible and adorable all at once.

“I’ve certainly had worse. As have you. At least there won’t be any lost boys trying to kill us this time.” Hook retrieves his jacket – it might be too conspicuous for him to wear around, but it’ll do well as a blanket if they can’t find anything else.

Hook’s legs are exhausted. He hadn’t realized how exhausted he is until they’d sat down in the restaurant. He is _very_ ready for some quality sleep. By the look on Emma’s face as she stretches against a … fire hydrant? She is just as tired.

The barn is small, but has an ample supply of hay. It’ll be a scratchier sleep than, say, his bed at Granny’s. But it’ll do.

Emma pulls off her red leather jacket and moves to a fluffy pile of hay. Looking back and forth between the pile and Hook, her brows furrow in something like confusion.

“Swan, is there a problem?”

“Um, no. But, uh, don’t take this the wrong way… I’d, um, appreciate it if you slept with me – no! I mean _near_ me. Lost boys might not be hunting us, but we don’t have anyone else to protect us. We don’t have any weapons. Just… we should stay close. If that’s… all right.”

_All right_. The phrase is more like _bloody brilliant_. But he knows to play it cool. _Fake it ‘til you make it_ , as it were.

“That’s a fine suggestion, love.”

Emma lies down, bunching up her coat to use as a pillow. Her back is to him, as he expected it would be, but he taps her side anyway.

“I know _you_ may take _this_ the wrong way, but I’d wager we’ll be a bit more comfortable if we share what we can. My jacket is large enough to cover us both, but we’ll need to be quite close. I’m happy to allow you to have it for yourself, if that’s what you want. But it’s just a suggestion.” He keeps his eyes down. It’s truly the best option – despite the mild temperatures of the day and the walls that protect them now, the night is sure to get quite chilly – but, of course, he _also_ can’t deny his overwhelming need to touch her, to keep her safe.

She rolls toward him, offering her jacket as his pillow. “Lie down on this. I’ll just use _you_ as a pillow.” She smiles. “Don’t act like you won’t like it, buddy,” she responds when his eyes go wide.

He can’t think of a single innuendo, despite being the closest he’s ever been to the body he so desperately wishes to worship. He’s close enough to smell her, close enough that he can’t help but recall their one kiss, the needy, frantic one in Neverland. Her lips had also been on his just a day ago, of course, but it doesn’t count if he wasn’t conscious. And she wasn’t actually _kissing_ him, anyway.

He finally lies down next to her, bringing his coat across them both. He’s on his back and she’s on her side, scooting toward him until her ear is resting over his chest. He slings his good arm around her shoulder, making sure not to touch her any lower than would make her comfortable. It feels like the natural thing would be to tilt his head, brush his lips over her forehead in a goodnight kiss. But he’s not about to press his luck.

Emma is asleep before he can even wish her sweet dreams, but he does take a moment to bask in the sweetness of his own reality (oh, how his brother and his crew would mock how gooey he’s become).

 

They wake in much the same position, though his good arm has slipped to her hip, while his hooked one is being held solidly by Emma’s fingers. She appears to be awake, but makes no move to speak, so he just stays as he is.

Always following her lead.

A few minutes pass and Emma sighs. “Please tell me I’m not the only one who can barely feel my legs.”

Hook chuckles. “You’re not alone in that, Swan,” he replies, shifting his free arm to smooth down her hair. They’ve no maps to know exactly how far they walked the day prior, but his muscles feel a bit like that goo they’d tried to force on him at the hospital.

“Did you come up with any really stellar plans for getting home while you slept?” she asks, shifting her head on his chest.

“Not a one, love. I think I was too tired to even dream. You?”

“Ha. No, I did dream, though. We were in the Enchanted Forest and my mom was being burned at the stake. It was terrible. It’s a good thing I’m holding your hook and not your hand, because I woke up squeezing for dear life.”

It seems like a step, that she’s acknowledging their closeness. He expected her to jump away from him at first light. Maybe he’s making progress, after all.

“What shall I do about the hook today?” he asks. It’s not as if he’d thought to carry around his fake hand in case of _time travel_.

“I actually thought about that last night. You might not like this… But I think maybe you should take off the whole brace. Just be… without anything. And before you say no! Just think about it. We need to look super harmless. A guy with one hand is definitely non-threatening. And I’ll do my best to look like a valley girl or something. Or is that later this decade? Ugh, I miss having Google on my phone.”

“I wonder if your phone would have worked if you hadn’t dropped it before we fell through?”

“Probably not. We could have gotten rich by showing it someone, though. Let me tell you, if I was still a lost girl and didn’t have that family to go back to, that would have been an attractive option. Just get rich off our knowledge of the future. We could get a mansion. A super fancy car. You could get a boat!” She taps his chest in excitement.

“ _Ship_ , love. I would require a ship.”

After a few more moments they lightly stretch and finally stand, brushing the hay off their clothes. Hook reaches up to unfasten his hook, stashing it under a tarp in the corner of the barn. It would be much easier to remove the brace with help, but he doesn’t dare ask Emma. It might have been her suggestion, but the _concept_ of marred flesh is much more palatable than the thing itself.

But of course that doesn’t stop her. “Allow me?” she asks, reaching for the straps of the brace. The contraption goes all the way up to his shoulder, so Emma pushes his sleeve as high as it will go and starts to undo the buckles. He shakes his arm, letting the brace come undone and Emma rubs soothing circles over the welts in his skin.

“When was the last time you took this off the whole way?”

“I can’t recall. It doesn’t happen often.”

“Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore. You get used to these things.”

She smiles sadly at him, then bends slightly to press a light kiss to the deepest welts near his elbow. When she stands straight again she pulls his sleeve back down and tugs on the edge.

“We should go.”

 

At breakfast she introduces him to chocolate chip pancakes and crossword puzzles and the jukebox, playing him all the biggest hits from the past few years. He can’t stand “Eye of the Tiger,” but loves “Come on Eileen,” and by the time “Jack and Diane” is over, he’s singing along. Emma seems entertained by his antics, so he slightly exaggerates his actions, drawing attention from others in the diner. She blushes and swats at his hand to stop, but the twinkle in her eye is worth any unwanted attention by strangers.

A woman probably about Emma’s age, very short with wild brown hair that adds at least three inches to her height, comes up to their table. “Oh my goodness. You guys are just the cutest couple! Are you new in town?” She’s looking right at Hook, but he remembers Emma’s warning. _Let her lead_.

“We’re just passing through, actually,” Emma explains. “There was a fire at our apartment and we were left with only the clothes on our backs. Can you recommend us a store to get some new stuff, maybe?” He’s never seen Emma turn up the charm so much. She’s hardly social even with those she loves, but based on her body language now, you’d bet she was the life of every party.

Of course she was the life of _his_ party, but that was an entirely different thing.

The woman laughs along and directs them down the road a few blocks. Just as they are leaving, she calls out to them again.

“Oh and, um – ?” The woman pauses, waiting for Emma to fill in their names.

“Emma! I’m Emma. And this is Killian.”

“Emma and Killian. Nice to meet you. You guys should come back tonight! We’re having a bit of a celebration. The cover is only $5 but if Sarah’s at the door, she’d probably let _you_ in for free. Just don’t mention you’re taken,” she directs at Killian. Between Emma’s personality and Killian’s looks, they’re sure to make it in this strange world, at least for a little while. That’s really the only comfort he’s got.

He thinks for a moment about their entire lack of a longterm plan and he panics (just for a moment). The woman seems to take it as him being flustered at her attention and she winks. Emma grabs his hand and offers her thanks, promising they’ll return that night as they scurry out the door.

“We’re really going, love?” he asks on their short walk.

“What else are we going to do? I still have zero ideas about how to get back to the past. At this rate our best shot is just going to be to make a life here until Storybrooke lands. Then, I don’t know. We could go find baby me? No, because then that would change who I’d grow up to be. But that would create a loop that might send us back to the beginning, I think? God, I should have paid more attention in all those ridiculous sci-fi movies.”

“It’s OK, love. We’ll just go a day at a time.”

“We could use some drinks, right? And maybe there will be food. And we’ll need to meet people. Get an odd job or two to try to get a little more money?”

“All right.”

 

Their shopping adventure is… strange. The clothes are very stripey. Baggy. Emma doesn’t appear to like them, either, but she winds up buying a few plain button-up shirts and colorful patterned skirts. She purchases a few checkered shirts for Killian along with a pair of tight jeans and a much shorter leather jacket.

“It’s the closest thing to what you’re used to I could find, OK?” she says, putting the clothes in a newly purchased messenger bag. The bag still on his shoulder carries only the storybook and his rum and couldn’t have fit the clothing.

 

They head back to their little barn, ready to change their clothes and strategize.

“The book, it’s magical isn’t it?” Emma asks him after a long pause.

“I don’t actually know,” he replies. “It must be. Those images look exactly like your parents in moments no one witnessed. There must be some form of enchantment to it.”

When they reach the barn he pulls the book from the satchel and flips through the pages, Emma peering over his shoulder. All is intact, from what he can tell. The story he’d just heard read aloud by the lad, at least, was unchanged.

“If it’s there, doesn’t that mean there’s at least remnants of magic here? Maybe something could come through.”

“Why don’t you try to vanish my hook again? You certainly enjoyed that the first time.” They both smile, remembering the echo of better times.

“I tried on the walk here to do magical stuff. Move rocks, make the wind blow, even disappear your hook. Nothing worked.” She hung her head, frustrated once again. “Why don’t we change our clothes and talk about our cover story. We’ll be around lots of people tonight. We’ll need to know who we’re pretending to be. So… turn your head for a minute and then I’ll turn mine and then let’s chat.” She pulled an outfit out of her bag and walked to the darker corner of the barn, obviously self-conscious despite the fact that she could trust he wouldn’t invade her privacy like that. Much as he’d love to see her body, it wouldn’t be _good form_ to do so without permission.

 

They try their best to keep their cover story similar enough to the truth. Instead of Emma finding him in a pile of bodies and then holding a knife to his throat, she saved him after a natural disaster and took him to the hospital. Instead of abandoning him at the top of a beanstalk, she ran away after they took a hike together, (so afraid of her feelings she was, he adds as a mental note). And then instead of him taking her on an adventure to save her son, they simply spent a lot of time sailing on his boat. He was former Navy. She had worked as a private investigator. It was all close enough to the truth.

Except for the part about family. They decide if anyone asks they will say she never knew her family, that those who cared for her are now dead. She chokes up at the lie, even as she only practices saying it – so he pulls her close and runs his fingers through her hair. “We’ll get back to them, love. You’ll never be alone.”

 

They stop at the grocery store, grabbing some soup and sandwiches for dinner. Hook suggests hot chocolate with cinnamon as dessert, but her eyes well up enough he knows that’s something she’s saving for going _home_.

They wander around for a while, walking for lack of anything better to do. She grasps his stump with both her arms, leaning slightly into his shoulder (she still seems so tired).

“Are you sure you want to do this, love? We can just go back to the barn, hide out a little longer.”

“No. Hiding isn’t going to make this go away. It’s not going to make it not have happened.” She pauses, looking up at him with pain in her eyes. “I’m so sorry I got us into this mess. I should – I should have listened to you. I’m just… stubborn.”

She bows her head further, almost beneath his chin.

“That’s brand new information!” Hook quotes an episode of _Friends_ he once watched with Henry and Mary Margaret while he was waiting for Emma to get done with work (back in the era of the wicked witch). Emma recognizes the quote and starts laughing hysterically.

“You know, that show won’t even _premiere_ for another _twelve_ years. You’re ahead of the time, Killian Jones. For _once_.”

 

The party is overwhelming. Emma is putting on her best charm, but deep in her green eyes he can see her exhaustion, see how terrified she is of being trapped here.

But everyone loves her, buys her drinks, gives her extra onion rings. They love him, too, mussing his hair and flirting with him. Right in front of Emma, too. She just laughs, says, “yes, he’s adorable but he’s _not_ for you.” She’s almost _possessive_. But it could just be part of the ruse.

Sarah, the girl who was manning the door, flirts with him some more, encouraging him to dance with her. He looks to Emma with panic, but she nods her head, smiling. _Go ahead_ , she mouths.

Sarah twirls him around, tries to teach him to kick his legs around to the music. He’s used to waltzes, not… whatever _this_ is.

An older guy, Jim, asks Emma to dance. She looks a bit uncomfortable but agrees and he swings her around, dipping her down and pulling her close again. She’s had quite a lot to drink, her cheeks flushed, so she giggles but seems to want an escape.

At that moment, “Jack and Diane” comes on, and Emma shrieks. “Killian! It’s your song!” she shouts, physically pushing away from the man to go grab onto Hook. She threads her fingers through his and grasps the elbow of his bad arm, jumping up and down to the beat of the song as they sing out the lyrics with all they’ve got.

An unfamiliar song begins next – is it a song? It sounds more like what Henry calls a “horror movie.” But everyone clears the floor with excitement in their eyes. Emma looks up at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re going to love this,” she says, leaning her back into his chest and pulling his arms around her middle.

“Is this some kind of tradition?”

“Yeah, we’ll call it that. This is the kind of organized dancing we do in _this_ realm.”

Finally some actual musical notes are playing and those around the edge of the open space on the dance floor begin twitching, inching their way into some sort of formation.

Emma squirms out of his embrace, pulling him toward the dance floor with her.

“It’s going to be confusing at first. But you’ll catch on. This song has only just come out! I’m sure plenty of people don’t know the moves yet. Really, there’s only one rule. Pick a partner who knows what she’s doing,” she promises.

Suddenly everyone on the floor slumps down, only to stand straight back up in time with the music. Emma is giggling and light as the whole crowd lifts their arms, marches left and right, swings their hands around. It looks as if the entire party is having the same mental health episode all together as the voice calls through the speakers, “and this is _thriller_ …”

Hook doesn’t even come close to getting the dance moves right – the rum in this realm might be weaker than what he carries in his flask, but he’s had quite a bit more of it than usual. Anyway, he’s happy to just absentmindedly flail about while his real focus is to watch Emma.

God he _loves_ her. And as much as he’d like to just make a quiet life with her, here or anywhere, he can’t do it without Henry. They need to find their way back to him. He loves her – and the lad – enough he’d dig straight through the Earth if that’s what it took to be together again. They’ll enjoy tonight, sure, but he is resolute: tomorrow he’s figuring out how to get them back where they belong.

The song ends and Emma is out of breath, sweaty, and complaining she can’t feel her face she’s been smiling so much.

“Love, it’s probably the liquor that’s got your face numb.”

“Nope. It’s the smiling. I smile so much more when I’m with you, you know?”

“I think it was the song that had you smiling, Swan.”

“Nah. Michael Jackson’s got nothing on my pirate.” She tugs on his checkered shirt, lowering his face to hers, placing a brief kiss on his cheek.

“I think you might need some air, love,” Hook suggests. “Why don’t we go sit out front for a moment?”

“Lead the way, Killian.” She takes his hand and waits for him to start moving.

_There’s a first for everything_.

He pauses for a moment, just enjoying the power he’s got (however fleeting), before finally tugging on her hand to drag her out the front door.

They sit at a small table meant for enjoying a meal in the sunshine, Emma never letting go of his hand. They’re quiet for a few minutes, just catching their breath and enjoying the cool hair (and the freedom from cigarette smoke – Emma had warned him it would be much thicker than he’d been used to in her own time).

“So what do you think of the ‘80s, Killian?”

He shrugs. “Oh, well I don’t know. It’s strange. The clothes, the music… all very weird. But I’d enjoy any time or place with you, love.”

She squeezes his hand. “Me, too!”

Her excitement is almost childlike, but her expression melts into something melancholy in seconds.

“Henry loves _Thriller_.”

“Maybe he’ll teach me it better than you. When we get home. Not that you tried too hard…”

“Hey! It’s hard to teach while you’re doing it. You managed OK, don’t you think?”

“I thoroughly enjoyed myself. That’s what matters.”

Emma shifts her chair closer to his, rubbing her thumb across the back of his hand.

“You really think we’re going to make it back?”

“I do. I believe we will find a way. And believing in even the possibility of a happy ending is a very powerful thing. Your mom told me that once.”

“When did she tell you that?”

Hook blushes, wishing he hadn’t brought up _that_ particular conversation. He doesn’t want to lie, but no matter how open she feels now, this is one of those things – one of those details that could erect her walls back up in seconds.

“Ah, well. I spoke to your mother just before my lips had been cursed. She was thanking me for finding you in New York and I told her I’d do anything for you. Even if it didn’t particularly get me anywhere when it came to… a relationship with you.” He looks away from her, studying the mural painted on the wall behind her.

“She told me how sorry she was that she’d pushed you toward Neal. She just wanted you to be happy. And I said I wanted the same, however it was that came about for you. And she told me not to lose hope. Of course, you opened up a bit more after that, right when I had to avoid you – the curse and all. And, well, I still have hope. About many things. But the thing I know most is I will get you back to your family.”

Emma is quiet, just absorbing his words, until something flashes in her eyes.

“Wait, in New York, how did you do it? How did you get to me?”

“Well the curse was coming. I ditched my crew and took the Jolly Roger as fast and as far as I possibly could to outrun it.”

“You outran a curse?” She doubts him.

“I’m a hell of a captain.” He smirks and she chuckles, leaning closer.

“Once I was outside of the curse’s purview, I knew that the walls were down. Transport between the worlds was possible again. All I needed was a magic bean.”

“Those are not easy to come by.”

He pauses. “They are if you’ve got something of value to trade.”

“And what was that?” It’s obvious she’s expecting gold, treasure… something shiny and meaningless. If only that were the case.

“Why, the Jolly Roger, of course.” He flashes a smile, one that leaves Emma a bit breathless.

“You traded your ship for me?

“Aye.”

A tear falls from Emma’s eye as she leans her forehead into his.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck here. I miss Henry so much it hurts,” her voice cracks. “But whether we’re here or in the Enchanted Forest, or Neverland, or back in my time like we belong… no matter what and who we are, I _love_ you.” Her tears fall harder and Killian struggles to comprehend what she’s just said. He must be drunk or dreaming. He must be –

She leans in just a little further then, bumping her nose against his, before she finally presses her lips to his. He’s stunned, but only for a second, returning the kiss eagerly. His hand releases hers and comes up to thread through her hair, his thumb brushing against her cheek. One of her arms wraps around his waist while the other curls around his neck, her nails scratching at his hairline.

She tilts her head and deepens the kiss and Hook feels something like an explosion in his gut, a rush of feelings he’s never experienced before that seems to knock him breathless. She reacts at just the same time as if she felt it, too.

When Hook opens his eyes, he sees Emma’s staring straight back at him, frozen in surprise. _Oh, no, please don’t let her regret this._ But after a moment his eyes finally rove around the rest of the scene in front of him. The mural that was at Emma’s back has disappeared, a _Welcome to Storybrooke_ sign in its place, complete with a sign for Granny’s Bed  & Breakfast above it. Lights are strung around the small space and he finally understands – they’ve _moved_.

Emma’s eyes shoot to her left, the entrance to Granny’s now in place of the diner they’d just been dancing in. They could hear the soft rumble of voices inside – no thumping ‘80s music – and Hook recognizes a _Congratulations_ banner through the front window.

They’re _back_. They’re somehow sitting in front of her little brother’s naming ceremony, an event that just seconds ago was _three decades_ in the future.

“Killian… what just happened?” Emma asks slowly, her mouth curled in a confused frown, her eyes wider than eyes really should ever go.

“I don’t bloody know! Did we drink ourselves into some strange coma?”

“We’re _back_ , aren’t we? We were gone, but now we’re back…”

His head is still a bit fuzzy from the rum, but there’s nothing like time travel to really sober you up.

They _kissed_. They kissed after she confessed to _loving_ him. And what is it that can break any curse? _True love’s kiss_.

Hook can’t seem to form words. Does Emma realize what’s just happened? Does she mean what she said, even now that they’re back to normal and _not_ stranded all alone in a strange world?

“But it wasn’t a curse!” she chokes out.

“Maybe time travel counts as a curse? I don’t know the sodding rules of magic, but I know we’re back where we came from.”

Emma just stares and Hook wonders if he should leave her alone. She realizes the implication of their kiss, obviously, but she doesn’t seem too happy about it. Maybe he should just walk away. Give her space.

“The book!” she cries, reaching for his shoulder. He hadn’t been carrying the satchel at the bar, though. It had been stashed back with their other clothes and his hook, in a barn one town over and 30 years in the past.

“Love, I think it’s…” he starts, before she wrenches her eyes closed, tilts her head to the side and a flash of light produces all the things he was about to declare long _gone_.

“I’d say you’ve got your magic back then?” he comments lightly while she flips open the book. He leans toward her and it appears untouched, the story remaining just as Killian had heard… yesterday? This morning? The timeline is a bit blurry, to be honest.

Emma is about to close the book when Killian notices a loose page sticking out the back of it. “Wait. What’s this?”

She tugs it from between the pages and makes a strange noise, something halfway between a giggle and a moan. Her cheeks flush as she looks up into his eyes, swirling the page so it’s facing him.

It looks like every other page of the book, like it’s painted or something. Like it’s old and serious and _history_. But the content – well it’s adorable and laughable all at once. He and Emma, decked out in ‘80s garb and surrounded by strangers, have their arms in the air like zombies in the middle of a bar. Emma’s head is thrown back in delight while Hook stares at her lovingly from the corners of his eyes. Scrawled at the bottom of the picture is a single word: _hope_.

Emma crosses her arms and rolls her eyes and Hook wiggles his eyebrows at her. They should probably go inside to the party – those inside might be worried about them – but he’s just trying to take a moment to process the fact that the girl he’s loved for years is now confirmed to be his actual, real-life, official _true love_.

“I still love you. Now that we’re back, I still love you. Just… so you know.”

“Considering we’ve shared true love’s kiss, I should hope so. But, just for the record, I love you as well, darling. More than I can say.”

“ _Good_ ,” is all she says before reaching out her hand for his.

“Shall we go inside now, _princess_? Your brother the prince is likely getting anxious.”

“You’d better stop mocking royalty, buddy. You’re basically bound to _become_ it now, you know.”

“Oh, I’m well aware, love. But we’ll be very _un_ -royal, I’m sure.”

They walk together into Granny’s and her parents’ faces light up.

“We were so worried! You weren’t answering your phone,” David says.

“It’s OK. I’m safe. I’m _home_.” She looks between her parents. “Mom, dad, I’ve missed you.”

Hook allows the family a moment, instead sitting down in the booth across from where Henry has now sat back down after hugging his mother and grandparents, after Emma has promised she’s not going back to New York, after all.

The loose page catches Henry’s attention immediately.

“You did _Thriller_ without me, mom?” He looks up, scolding her, not at all surprised that his mother has worked her way into the collection of fairy tales.

“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll do it again. You need to teach Killian. He was kind of terrible.” Emma rolls her eyes and her parents look confused and they all sit back down in the booth so the two of them can explain their adventure.

\---

Henry _does_ teach him the dance. They practice it over and over.

And a year later as he and Emma march into the cavernous great hall to be announced for the first time as husband and wife, Snow White and Prince Charming are shocked that instead of the _waltz_ Emma had promised as their first dance, the bride and groom are instead twitching around the dance floor like zombies, Henry joining them at the chorus, marching forward and stepping back and flailing about like idiots.

Aye, they’re very un-royal royals indeed.


End file.
